


Deep Cover

by saladhime



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Hotline Miami!AU, M/M, there is mention of violence but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29280336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saladhime/pseuds/saladhime
Summary: Martin can't remember the boy in his apartment.Until he does.
Relationships: Martin "Wunder" Hansen/Rasmus "Caps" Winther
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Deep Cover

**Author's Note:**

> this is quite literally a product of my yearly hotline miami brain worms !
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoy the fic and have a great day/night!

It takes all of Martin’s self control to not fall face-first into his beer-soaked carpet as he opens the door to his apartment, the door colliding with the wall and producing a loud THUD.

He knows he looks like shit. Probably smells like it too. Blood, sweat, booze and dog saliva probably wouldn’t make for a very appealing candle. 

He sheds his jacket, a thick letterman with white sleeves and brown all along the rest. A bright yellow  _ M  _ crowns jacket, though after his  _ appointment  _ with pest control, the  _ M  _ is now drenched in a bright red. Martin doesn’t even think of that, however, choosing to just toss it onto the couch, and limps over to the bathroom. 

As he reaches over to turn the knob on the bathroom door, it creaks open slowly and Martin stiffens, even if his muscles burn and his cuts sting because  _ who the hell is in his apartment?  _

It doesn’t take long to find out, because soon after the door fully opens and Martin is met with the figure of a short, slim and shaking man. He’s wearing a pair of black boxers and a thin green tank top. His eyes (already so,  _ so  _ big) are widened and he looks as though he’s seconds from sprinting past Martin. 

_ He’s…...He’s like a rab-no….more like a mouse. Rabbit causes pain. Mouse….Mouse is safe. _

Martin tries to wrack his brain, trying to remember where the shorter man came from and why he was  _ here.  _ The throbbing headache doesn’t help as he sifts through the static mush that are his memories of his previous outings, but it's one second, then another second and then;

_ The call for a dating service. I kill. There’s a room. It’s dark black. A boy. A sickly looking boy. He’s crying. I picked him up. I’m leaving with him. He’s home. He’s in my bed. His name. He’s- _

“Rasmus?” Martin says, voice gravelly, the name scraping at his throat. But the boy seems to be taken aback by Martin’s memory of him, so he coughs to try and clear his throat.

Of course, only blood spurts out, and Rasmus flinches back, but he stands in place. Martin can feel the hesitation from the other man. Whether to run or to stay, whatever  _ staying  _ meant.

There’s a tug on Martin’s arm, though, and he’s gently pulled into the bathroom. He let’s Rasmus guide him over to the toilet, and he lets himself plop onto it, his legs finally giving out. He doesn’t see so much as hear the water from the sink start to run, and he can feel his eyes begin to glaze over in fatigue when the faucet stops and Rasmus stands in front of him holding a few towels.

“Um...let me. Help clean you up.” Rasmus says, ever so quietly. Martin just nods in reply.

Soon enough, there are fingers holding one side of his face gently, and while the other is wiped down with one of his scratchy towels. Rasmus presses down just enough so that the grime that has dried on his face comes off, and Martin feels  _ lighter.  _ Rasmus doesn’t look up at him, though.

Rasmus continues along his face, and then his arms, until soon enough Rasmus is holding Martin’s hands in his own. 

The first thing Martin notes about Rasmus’s hands, is that they are small. The second is that they are calloused. And the third is that they hold Martin’s own disgusting and brutish hands so,  _ so fucking  _ delicately.

He watches as Rasmus thumbs the skin on Martin’s hands almost….almost  _ benevolently.  _ He wants to vomit because when did he deserve something like this? Something so kind for someone as unkind as Martin….it makes his stomach flip.

The moment lasts the longest of seconds until finally he speaks to the shorter man in front of him. 

“Thank you.” Martin murmurs, his voice hoarse. Rasmus jumps at the sound, and stumbles from where he’s now kneeling, nearly pulling away from Martin and his hands. In the dim amber light of the bathroom, Martin see’s the big, widened eyes of Rasmus again.

Martin sees that hesitation again, the hesitation from before. Whether to run or to stay. 

He musters the last of his strength to pull Rasmus up as he stands, leaning against the sink as he lets his hands slip from Rasmus’s. He doesn’t think too hard about why that makes him feel so dismal, and begins to limp his way to his bedroom. He pauses as he gets to the door, however, and turns to face Rasmus, squinting in the hopes that his head would stop pounding.

“There’s….there's pizza in the kitchen and it’s pepperoni, I think. Goodnight.” Martin says, before turning away. 

When he’s sure Rasmus can’t see, and for the first time since getting the phone calls, he smiles to himself.

Rasmus wasn’t shaking anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> me dropping my wips to write this after months of not writing.......yeah.............


End file.
